


Fireball and Finals

by doctoralanabloom



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Exams, Friendship, Gen, M/M, mostly a brotp thing, slight shipping but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctoralanabloom/pseuds/doctoralanabloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt is having some trouble studying and Foggy has the perfect solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireball and Finals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LachesisMeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LachesisMeg/gifts).



“Matt.” 

There was a voice coming from somewhere, but Matt was only dimly aware of it. He could be dreaming.

“ _ Matt. _ ”

A hand was on his shoulder, then, and it startled him awake.

“Foggy?”

“Yeah. You passed out on your textbook, dude.”

“Oh… right.” Matt lifted his head, feeling his face for the indents the braille text had made in his cheek and sighed. “Thanks for waking me.” He set his fingers back on the page, feeling for the place where he left off. Nothing seemed familiar… He must have been drifting in and out for a while before actually falling asleep.

“I think maybe you should take a break.”

“Come on, Fog, finals are next week.”

“Yeah,  _ next  _ week. Which means we’re supposed to be partying it off  _ this  _ week.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Sure it’s a thing.” Matt said nothing in response. “It could be a thing!” After a beat of silence, Foggy sighed.

“Look, Matty, You’re working yourself to death. I’m pretty sure  _ I’m  _ gonna get gray hair if you keep going at this rate.”

“Is my hair turning gray?” Matt asked teasingly.

“I didn’t know how to break it to you.” This made Matt chuckle.

“Well, what did you have in mind? We go out and party? You know parties aren’t my thing. Too–”

“Too noisy, I know. Give me a little credit, I’ve been living with you since undergrad.”

“So…? What  _ is _ your grand plan, then?”

“You want to study, that’s fine. But we’re doing it my way.” Matt could hear Foggy digging around in his satchel. A glass bottle clinked against his keys.

“What is that, whiskey?” It was Fireball. Matt could smell the cinnamon, even through the seal.

“This, my friend, is Fireball.”

“To help us focus, I imagine.” Foggy’s eye’s narrowed. Matt couldn’t actually tell; just a feeling.

“Ha ha, smartass,” Foggy retorted. “The rules are as follows.” He plucked two shot glasses off of his desk. “You get an answer wrong, you do a shot. You get an answer right, you do a shot.”

“Foggy–”

“Matt, it is a  _ Saturday _ . I am 25 years old–”

“So am I.”

“Yes, but  _ you’re _ a tight-ass.” 

Matt just chuckled. 

“You’re laughing because you know I’m right!” Matt lifted his hands in mock defense.

“Guilty.” 

Foggy plunked the shot glass down on Matt’s desk, and unscrewed the cap of the bottle. The smell of the liquor filled Matt’s nostrils. He did his best not to cough. Foggy poured Matt a shot, and then poured one for himself.

“All right, Murdock,” Foggy began, “what is that, your American Law book?” 

“Yep.”

“Okay. Your first question: what was the first recorded murder trial?”

“Ahh… Oh, shit. Come on. Uh…”

“Drink... drink... drink...” Foggy began to chant, teasingly. Matt laughed. 

“I do know this one. It’s– Levi Weeks.... Oh– the, ah….”

“Drink, drink, drink, drink–”

“The Manhattan Well Murder Trial!”

“Eyy!” Foggy cheered. “Now drink, Murdock. I should make you do two since you dragged it out for so long.” Matt chuckled and shook his head before downing the shot in one fell swoop. It burned his throat and he coughed and sputtered after it was down.

“Jesus, I forgot how strong this was.” He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, lips stinging from the taste.

“That is precisely the point, my young padawan. Now can we cut the studying crap and just drink like men?”

“Fine,” Matt relented, “but I’m not drinking any more of that crap. I’m getting a beer.” He made a small sound of distaste, and headed towards the kitchen. 

“You’re such a lightweight,” Foggy called behind him.

“And don’t you forget it.”

 

\----

A few half assed history questions later, Foggy was fairly drunk, and Matt was just buzzed enough to inhibited, but not so much that his senses were thrown off kilter. He was, for the time being, enjoying Foggy’s inebriated ramblings. That was something he loved about Foggy; he always had a story to tell. But when he was drunk, he had  _ five.  _ He was in the middle of the famed butcher story; one Matt had been told notably on four different occasions, and had heard off-handedly what might have been another ten. Matt had heard it enough times that he could probably repeat it himself, word for word, without a single bit of prompting. And while he knew it  _ should _ drive him crazy, it was one of the greatest comforts in the world. The familiar cadence of Foggy’s voice, the absolutely unchanging plotline. Even slurred with alcohol, Foggy told it the same way every time. Matt could only chuckle with fondness as he listened.

“...but I think she just liked the idea of free ham. Can you imagine that? My own mother. Using me for… for  _ deli meats _ .” Foggy stopped, then, and looked at his audience of one, who was smiling down at his lap. He squinted at Matt, and smiled. “What are you thinking about?” he asked slyly. Matt looked up.

“Oh. No, nothing. I was just enjoying your butcher story.”

“Okay, Mr. ‘I-was-just-enjoying-your-butcher-story,’ consider this: bullshit.” 

Matt laughed.

“No, I’m serious! Bull-freakin’- shit! I know when you’re bluffing. I’m a lawyer, for crying out loud!”

“Not if we don’t pass the Bar.”

“Yeah, but the Bar is like. A million years away. Don’t change the subject. You were making googly-eyes at the floor. And you don’t  _ make  _ googly-eyes. You’re Matt Murdock, adonis of Columbia University, who eclipses the sexy but unlucky Foggy Nelson, faithful sidekick and failed Punjabi linguist.” 

Matt, by this point, was laughing heartily.  “Foggy, you’re really on fire tonight.”

“Probably the Fireball. Don’t avoid my question. What’s her name?”

“Foggy, there’s no girl.”

“Oh come on, there’s always a girl.”

“Hey, that’s not true!” Matt retorted, still laughing. “There is  _ sometimes  _ a girl. And I know you seem to have this impression that I’m some kind of Don Juan, but it’s really not like that.”

There was a beat of silence, and Matt was not quite sure what to do with himself. He really didn’t like talking about his sex life– especially with Foggy, who seemed to only be able to knock himself down around Matt. 

“All right,” Foggy said suddenly, “if it’s not a girl, then what were you thinking about? You’re not gonna get me off topic, Murdock.” Matt sighed and shook his head, still smiling. 

“I’m just glad I have you around, Fog. That’s all.” Another pause.

“Matthew Murdock, have you gone soft on me?” Foggy grinned, bumping Matt’s foot with his own.

“Hey, don’t get too excited. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning.”

“Oh, get over here, you big softie,” Foggy said, standing and opening his arms. Matt sighed and embraced Foggy, but not without a smile.

“Look, I really do appreciate everything you do.”

“I appreciate you too, buddy.”

Matt chuckled. “How about we get you to bed so we can actually study tomorrow?”

“Ah, don’t worry. We’re gonna be avocados no matter what.”

“Damn right we are,” Matt said, “now get your ass in bed.”

“Yes, your honor.”


End file.
